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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741447">carrying you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirallings/pseuds/spirallings'>spirallings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bokuaka week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Bokuto Koutarou is a Good Friend, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi and Akaashi Are Half-Siblings, M/M, Mention of Iwaizumi Hajime - Freeform, Mention of Oikawa Tooru - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:40:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirallings/pseuds/spirallings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During a training camp, Bokuto takes notice that something is off with his setter and vice captain. Bokuto is not the most book smart person, but when it concerns his best friend, he can't not notice.</p>
<p>Whatever it is, he knows two things: </p>
<p>One: It involves the vice captain of Aobajohsai.</p>
<p>Two: It has Akaashi off-balance.</p>
<p>It doesn't take much else for Bokuto to do what it takes to be there for his setter and best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bokuaka week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>carrying you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i saw a single piece of ATLA au fanart that had iwaizumi and akaashi as half-brothers and ever since, it has given me brainworms that i've yet to be released from. i can never let it go now dear god</p>
<p>
  <i>day 7: hurt/comfort</i>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sometimes, even members of the Fukurodani Boy’s Volleyball Team forgot that Bokuto could read Akaashi just as well as Akaashi could read Bokuto. It was something strangely more subtle, not as bombastic and in-your-face as Bokuto’s eccentric mood swings that seemed to come out of nowhere, but Akaashi was a subtle person by comparison. To see the minuscule changes in his moods and emotional well-being required a keen eye and a knowledge of his person. The team could pick up when Akaashi started overthinking or getting too in his head, although sometimes it could be hard to tell if Akaashi hadn’t started mumbling something under his breath or glaring at a wall in deep concentration. It hadn’t, yet, been any cause for concern beyond trying to bring Akaashi back to the present and centering on task focus.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Bokuto knew something was off with Akaashi the first time they met the Aobajohsai Team at a training camp some months before the qualifiers for the Spring Interhigh started.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A jolt of the shoulders. A slight widening of the eyes. A rapid blink, then a squint. Mouth forming into a tight line.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Somethin’ on your mind, ‘Kaashi?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s hands tensed behind his back, where they’d been previously fiddling with each other almost aggressively. Nails scraping against the skin and leaving deep red scratches, not quite enough to break skin but enough to linger. The younger boy put his mouth in a firm line, thinking quickly within seconds before a more placid expression replaced the previously tight one. Akaashi cleared his throat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing in particular, Bokuto-san,” he said lightly— too lightly, Bokuto noted— “Just observing Aobajohsai a bit. From what I’ve heard, they’re quite strong players. They might even prove to be a challenge against <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The deadpan, good-hearted jibe was a deflect. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto hummed, looking back over at the heads of the Miyagi team with an exaggerated hand to his chin, squinting. He heard a huff from his side: he took it as a sign of victory, because that noise meant that Akaashi was starting to relax. He looked over the whole crew of them, but his stare lingered on the same team member that Akaashi was having difficulty looking away from, with that pursed, wide-eyed and then narrowed look on his face that was so unusual for him— </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d looked like he’d seen a ghost.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hummed louder, even as he watched Number 4 give Number 1 a flat look, brows drawn with half-hearted irritation and muttered something at the more flamboyant looking one—Oikawa, Bokuto figured— who only laughed. He tilted his head to better observe the other team from Miyagi, sizing them up according to height and musculature, and several of them did certainly look strong—they’d be fun to play against, from what he’d heard. But it was Number 4 he focused on for a beat longer than necessary, as that’s who Akaashi had looked at with a strange expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi was never the most overtly expressive person, so to see that look, that wide-eyed, pale look— Bokuto wanted to know the reason <em>why</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess!” He shrugged. “But there’s not a chance we’re gonna let them have victory over me! And us, too! I’m the best, after all!!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s always going to be someone who gives you a challenge, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. “If not someone better than you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From anyone else, the words might have been borderline hurtful. But this was Akaashi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Akaashi was special.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>AGAASHEEE</em>!” Bokuto wailed. “Have some faith in your ace!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched upward (another victory). “Don’t mess up your service ace this time, and I might.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The captain of Aobajohsai shot the pair of them sharp, calculating looks over his shoulder as Bokuto’s whines rose in volume, earning the fond exasperation of the Fukurodani team, and fixed his stare on the setter that was the subject of Bokuto’s complaining. His eyes narrowed, then flickered back to his Number 4 and Vice Captain, who seemed none the wiser: if he seemed affected by it at all, it was only being mildly weirded out, but then quickly forgotten.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oikawa might’ve figured it was nothing if not for how Fukurodani’s setter stared off at them before both teams broke off and separated to their respective practice games.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p5"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things seemed fine enough until Fukurodani had their first practice game against Aobajohsai. Like usual, Fukurodani sailed through most of their sets, won the majority of the games they played throughout the first half of the day and Bokuto was feeling good: not a hint of a downward swing in sight, it felt like. His and Akaashi’s synergy was a well-oiled machine and Akaashi’s tosses were as good as they always were: he hadn’t been exaggerating when the told him that his tosses were the best, after all. Even when Akaashi tossed to someone else, they were always at his best when they were tossed to Bokuto.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Each one felt special.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whatever had been bothering Akaashi earlier that day when the teams all arrived seemed to have come to a halt or forgotten, for the most part. He’d been tense at first, some of his tosses fell shorter than normal as if he were distracted, but when they got into their groove, it was as if nothing had happened at all. But when it was Aobajohsai’s turn to play against Fukurodani for a practice game, it was like a switch had gone off in Akaashi.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn’t concentrating like he was before. He missed pivotal tosses, they didn’t land where they needed, and he didn’t perform his surprise setter dumps like he typically did to throw their opponent off-balance. The way Akaashi was playing was almost <em>nervous</em>, erratic.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All of Fukurodani knew something was off with their setter and Vice Captain when Aobajohsai easily took the first set of the practice game.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Akaashi, is everything okay?” asked Konoha, brows furrowed when they broke for a break in-between sets. “I know it’s just a practice game, but usually you’re more.. I dunno.” He rubbed the back of his head, trying to find the right words so as to not offend or hurt his feelings. Akaashi was rarely fazed by much, so anything out of the ordinary like this.. it was noticeable. “You’re usually more concentrated. Are you feelin’ sick or something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s fingers twitched and he folded them against his stomach. He was fiddling again, rubbing his knuckles and picking at the tips of his skin, scraping nails against finger pads. He was avoiding looking his rather concerned upperclassmen directly in the eye, looking over their shoulders, but not seeing. If his feelings were wounded at all by Konoha’s concern, he didn't let it show.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine, Konoha-san,” he said. “I’m not sick.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Komi sidled up to him, expression skeptical. “Sooo, what’s goin’ on with you? Is it Mr. Big-Shot Setter on the other side of the net? Did he do something to you? Because if so, Washio can beat him up—“<br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m agreeing to no such thing,” Washio interrupted, tone flat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto, surprisingly, was quiet. Unblinking, gold eyes stayed fixed on Akaashi’s face, the fiddling of his fingers that seemed to get more erratic even as his expression stayed seemingly placid. “There’s really not necessary, Komi-san. Oikawa-san certainly is…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He paused.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<b><em>Difficult</em></b>—“ Sarukui and Konoha snorted, which Akaashi ignored, “To play against, but he’s not done anything to me. I appreciate your concern, but really, it’s nothing. I apologize for my mistakes, I was distracted when I shouldn’t have been. It was my fault for losing the first set. I will do better in the second se—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sit this one out, Akaashi.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A tense silence fell over the team. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wide gunmetal blue-green stared at him, astonished.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Undeterred, Bokuto placed his hands on his hips and gave a wide grin. “Throw Anahori into the ring and see how he does! He needs the experience anyway! If you’re tired, Akaashi, you should take a break, just don’t take a nap, I need you to see just how awesome my spikes are, with or without you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anahori squawked nervously at the sudden attention towards himself and half a dozen incredulous eyes fell between Captain and Vice Captain. On the other side of the court, Oikawa was visibly tapping his foot impatiently, arms crossed and expression just a <em>bit</em> annoyed. Akaashi swallowed and his jaw went taut.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a moment, the team was a bit worried that Bokuto was just about to start a serious argument between himself and Akaashi, and no one was prepared to deal with a truly angry or upset Akaashi, Konoha getting ready to hiss at Bokuto <em>you went too far</em>—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The team was left gaping as Akaashi grabbed his water bottle and a towel before giving a nod to Anahori, who was now trembling with pure nerves, and a smooth “Do your best, Anahori-kun,” as if he weren’t throwing his underclassmen to the figurative wolves that were Aobajohsai. For all intents and purposes, as Akaashi went to stand with the other teammates that weren’t on the regular roster, their setter seemed to be taking it better than thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto’s eyes lowered to the clenching of Akaashi’s fingers, the way they curled and cupped around each other, scratching at the knuckles in clear agitation, and the way that Akaashi seemed to be trying not to look at the other side of the net and failing greatly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He <b>wasn’t</b> fine. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it wasn’t something small or meaningless: Akaashi wasn’t a baby like him. He’d be fine later, but right now—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rallying the team back onto the court for the next set, with Akaashi’s calculating stare on his teammates, giving him something else to focus on rather that Number 4 on the other side of the net, Bokuto would do what he could to make sure that Akaashi would be okay. Whatever it was, he wanted to <em>help</em>—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So later that night, when practice games were over for the day, penalties were done and dinner was had, Bokuto went to talk to him. What kind of ace and friend would he be if Akaashi couldn’t rely on him just as much as Bokuto did Akaashi?</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p5"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Akaashi.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The soft call of his name drew Keiji’s attention, drawing his eyes from glaring at the ground and stalling him from scraping at his nails. His knee was still bouncing some, agitation simmering through his body as he felt his stomach tie in knots, knots that’d been in place since this morning when they met the visiting teams for the first time. As always, though, Bokuto’s voice seemed to loosen the tense coils in his body as the other boy sat down next to them, arms folded on his knees and chin pressed against his forearms. Even the way he tilted his head at Keiji was owl-like: <em>cute</em>, Keiji thought, then quickly dismissed the straying thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello, Bokuto-san,” he replied, despite only having just seen each other no less than half an hour ago at dinner. Keiji didn’t have it in him to eat much without feeling ill and so he left early, claiming exhaustion, to be alone outside in the cooler summer evening air.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t really eat much at dinner, which really isn’t like you, and your playin’ was really off today,” Bokuto said bluntly, because that’s just the sort of person he was, and he didn’t mean it in a mean way, Keiji knew, but he still twitched a little as shame and guilt flooded through him. He felt the air shift as Bokuto scooted a little closer, the other boy’s body heat radiating off of him until they were not quite touching but a hair’s breadth of doing so.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Practice games don’t get to you like that, ‘Kaashi,” continued Bokuto, an undercurrent of clear concern threading through his tone and the lower volume of his voice: when Bokuto was quiet instead of defaulting to his more vibrant nature, it always immediately drew Keiji’s attention and he knew, Bokuto was not going to let this go, not until he had some kind of answer that wasn’t a half-baked excuse. “Sooo… what’s goin’ on?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Keiji didn’t immediately reply, Bokuto nudged his knee with his own.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C’mon, I’m your Captain, ‘Kaashi! You’re supposed to look up to me for guidance! Like your very own Gandalf!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>That</em> earned a snort, which in turn made a grin twitch onto Bokuto’s face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re incapable of growing facial hair, Bokuto-san,” drawled Keiji, coils in his back and stomach loosening with an ease only Bokuto could accomplish. “I don’t think you’re capable of being very Gandalf-y.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto squawked <em>You don’t know that! </em>and <em>Watch me, I can </em><b><em>totally</em></b><em> grow a beard, just you wait! </em>which made it difficult for Keiji to hold back a small smile at how easy it could be with Bokuto; how easily he could bring Keiji back up without the other boy even knowing what was wrong or what was troubling the people around him. The aura around him was so bright and warm that it seeped into everyone else around him, infecting the room with a good mood. Keiji didn’t know anyone else capable of doing such a thing. But in spite of Keiji’s attempts to deflect away from the subject, Bokuto was insistent and he didn’t seem interested in leaving anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>Keiji had been battling with himself all day, second guessing himself, questioning, internalizing and justifying, and yet every time he tried to tell himself, <em>no no that’s absurd, they would have told me </em><b><em>years</em></b><em> ago, right?</em> he was just left with more questions and uncertainties. It felt as if the ground beneath his feet had swept him from underneath, leaving him adrift and lost. He barely knew how to articulate it himself, it was so ridiculous. ..And <em>yet</em>—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Biting his bottom lip hard, Keiji gave a shuddering exhale.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You saw Aobojohsai’s Number 4’s face, right, Bokuto-san? Iwaizumi-san?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto blinked. “Uhh, yeah, I think so. Their ace with the mean spike right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji nodded. He looked down at his fingers, fiddled with them, and sighed. He glared down at the ground, battling with himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto frowned heavily. “Did he say somethin’ to you? Was he rude to you or something? If he did I’m gonna give him a cross shot so good it’ll break his <em>face</em>—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No no, Bokuto-san,” intercut Keiji, quickly, because he was not about to let his best friend and captain get into a squabble with a visiting team’s Vice Captain over what was <em>probably</em> nothing. He waved his hands to stop the other boy, who’s suddenly fiercely angry expression faded in an instant. “That’s not it, Iwaizumi-san’s done nothing to me of that sort, nor has anyone on Aobajohsai done anything to me, for that matter, it’s just—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji paused, exhaled sharply through his teeth and took out his phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“..You’ve met my parents, right, Bokuto-san?” He murmured, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his photo album, expression pinched and narrow-eyed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto blinked, clearly confused.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s mother and father were very busy working people, so when one or both of them were able to attend one of Fukurodani’s games, it was a special occasion. His father was a surgeon and his mother was a psychologist and professor at a nearby university, so their hours didn’t always match up with Akaashi’s. They were a much more reserved people than Bokuto was used to within his own family, but they were kind to him the few times he’d met and spoken with them, if a bit surprised that someone as loud and extroverted as Bokuto was friends with their much more reserved son. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi Senior was a handsome man with dark hair and olive colored eyes, rugged edges but careful hands, something that Akaashi inherited, along with the sharp cut of his jaw and eyes, but in Bokuto’s opinion, Akaashi took far more after his mother—he’d seen the resemblance right away when he met her; the color of her eyes, hair, and even the composed way she carried herself was just like Akaashi.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Konoha and Komi had muttered, flustered, amongst themselves about how unfairly <em>pretty</em> Akaashi’s mother was when she came to one of their games, but if someone were to ask Bokuto—especially after seeing how Akaashi’s eyes lit up with pleasant surprise and the little smile at the sight of his mother, a similar smile that she returned with a gentle nod before sitting down, indicating their quiet closeness— it wasn’t her beauty that he found his eyes roaming towards and settling on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’d always been Akaashi.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn’t sure what that meant yet. But he had a feeling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about them? Is—“ His eyes widened. “Is there something wrong with them back home?? <em>Akaashiiiii</em>, you should’ve said something!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s nothing wrong with them—“ Akaashi paused, then pursed his lips. “At least, I don’t <em>think</em> so but..”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rubbing his temple, Akaashi sighed. “I hope I’m wrong,” he murmured, then handed his phone over to Bokuto, a picture lit up on the screen. “Take a close look at my father, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Raising an eyebrow at Akaashi, wondering if this was some kind of weird joke or prank Akaashi was playing on him (before deciding that, with that absolutely serious, almost frantic look on his face, he wasn’t), Bokuto lowered his eyes to the picture lit up on the phone. He brought it closer to himself and squinted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took him all of half a minute.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” he said dumbly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi put his head in his hands and breathed deeply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto swallowed hard and lowered the phone back down to the floor of the gym walkway, carefully. “Maybe he’s, like… a cousin?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even as he said it, it sounded stupid and unlikely. But everything about this sudden situation felt unreal. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s hands dragged down his face and he stared blearily into the distance of the darkened suburbs of Tokyo. Exhaustion was plain on his face now, brows knit and mouth, hidden behind his hands, tense. “As far as I’m aware,” he said drily, “My father is an only child, and <b>none</b> of his cousins look<em> just like him</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His fingers were red and raw, Bokuto realized. His nails were digging into the skin of his face. His arms, elbows propped on his knees, were starting to tremble. Eventually, it had to grown too much for him, because Akaashi suddenly put his face in his knees. He didn’t say anything more and his hands were tightly clasped against his shins. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’d been thinking about it all day.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto was at a loss for what to do to help. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To have your entire foundation of what you understood to be your family, your parents’ marriage, their love for each other and you, completely shaken up and taken from out underneath you—Bokuto couldn’t even begin to understand what had to be going through Akaashi’s head right now, what he’d been thinking all day—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No fucking wonder he hadn’t been able to concentrate during the game against Aobajohsai. Akaashi had to look at another boy, roughly his own age if not a little older, who was the spitting image of his father, right down to the bone structure and the way Iwaizumi’s eyes crinkled in time with a grin and high-five with his teammates after a cut shot that landed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His body moved without thinking as Bokuto wrapped an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, drawing him close. A startled, breathy<em> Bokuto-san—?</em> went unheard when Bokuto put his hand on the top of Akaashi’s head, fingers splayed in startlingly soft black hair that curled at the tips. Akaashi went stiff against him, rigid and stony, and Bokuto let his elbow press against the other boy’s shoulder blades as he brought Akaashi’s head onto his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s breath shuddered against his exposed collarbone, the other boy’s nose pressing into his neck. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto could hear the little tremor in his voice, barely anything more than a whisper. Had he not been so close, Bokuto might not have heard it. His fingers pressed just a little more firmly into Akaashi’s hair: it was soft, feathery to the touch against his calloused hands. He kind of wanted to run his fingers more fully through it, to see if it felt just as soft all over. Ignoring this sudden urge, Bokuto stared ahead, a softer grin playing on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told you that you should depend on me more, didn’t I? I’m your Captain after all, so! I’m offering you my shoulder. You try way too hard to be cool all the time, ‘Kaashi— You should let me be cool enough for you to lean on sometimes, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other boy was quiet and the crickets were louder than ever, the faint sound of a train rushing past and distant cars rumbling on the concrete. Gradually, he felt Akaashi’s shoulders loosen and his sharp inhales before the other boy finally let his weight lean against Bokuto’s. He didn’t completely press against Bokuto’s side, but he didn’t try to pull away or lift his head off of his shoulders. He kept his hands tucked tightly together in his lap, squeezing them but no longer picking at his skin or his knuckles. Akaashi was not a physically tactile sort, certainly not in the way that Bokuto was, who patted his friends and teammates shoulders, arms and backs easily, threw himself into embraces with his friends and Kuroo as easily as he did his sisters, so for Akaashi to lean against him like this, relax his body and allow himself to be this close— Bokuto knew what that meant. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If his heart stammered when Akaashi sniffled, breathing harshly through his nose and wiping hard at his eyes as he seemed to curl into Bokuto’s side— That was his little secret to hold close to his shirt pocket. And if Akaashi trusted him enough to leave the smallest of stains on his shirt from frustrated, confused and angry tears that spilled over after an entire day of keeping these worries to himself, then it wasn’t Bokuto’s place to share them with anyone else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat there as the night grew darker and darker until Akaashi sucked in a deep breath and finally lifted his head off of Bokuto’s shoulder. Pinching at the bridge of his nose first, he gave one last sniff as he wiped his slightly reddened eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose I should be glad that I’m not entirely crazy for seeing it,” he said dully. “Although, I’m not looking forward to having a discussion with my father about this, if this really isn’t some kind of insane coincidence and I’m <em>not</em> overreacting.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Slowly—reluctantly— Bokuto let his arm fall away from around Akaashi. His fingers brushed over the top of his hair as he did so. It felt electric on his skin—but now, not wasn’t the time, not when he still didn’t entirely understand why Akaashi made him feel like that, and especially not when Akaashi was still in such a state. He had time to figure it out later. He was going to live to be over 130 years old, after all: time was on his side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, he barked out a laugh. It might not have been the most appropriate thing to do given the circumstances, but it got Akaashi’s mouth to twitch into a ghost of a tired smile, and that was enough for him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, I don’t think you’re crazy, ‘Kaashi. If even I can see it, I think you’re onto something—“ Tucking his arms in behind his head, Bokuto looked up and hummed loudly. “What are you gonna do next?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He peered at Akaashi, to see him look away just as their eyes met. Akaashi was strumming his fingers together, brows furrowed in thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“..I guess I have to see if Iwaizumi-san knows anything,” he murmured. “I have to confirm with him before I can do anything else. I’ll have to talk to him first, otherwise I might do something rash that I’ll later regret.”’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s grown grew heavier as he rubbed the nail on his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want me to talk to him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Blinking, Akaashi looked up, further surprised by the seriousness on Bokuto’s face. Akaashi studied him for a moment before he shook his head, tension in his shoulders loosening. Akaashi sighed, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I can’t ask you to do that, Bokuto-san. It’s something that I need to do. If I turn out to be wrong—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something both were increasingly doubting more and more the longer the comparison of Iwaizumi’s face and Akaashi’s father became more similar, almost eerily so. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“At least it’ll just be me bearing the brunt of the embarrassment, so you won’t have to. I’ll talk to him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi paused, looked down at his steepled fingers, and looked up again. He hesitated for a moment, mouth parting and then closing again, before, with his voice far softer—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“..But, if you were.. willing to be there with me when I do..”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was fidgeting with his fingers and a faint pink flush was starting to crawl up the pale-skinned slope of his neck. Akaashi’s eyes, far brighter and more vulnerable than he’d ever allowed to be shared with anyone else, flickered to the side, showing his nerves: this was unusual for him. Outside of a game where he’d ask Bokuto to follow a new idea to lead them a run around of a particular difficult defense and his not-entirely-serious sarcastic requests for Bokuto to modify his unrestrained energy—Akaashi never asked Bokuto for anything. And certainly not for anything as serious as this.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto wanted to grab Akaashi and bring him forward in order to embrace him. He could feel the excited, elated stutter in his chest at this openness that Akaashi never allowed himself—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On the court, there was no one else Bokuto and Akaashi trusted more than each other.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Off the court, Akaashi was finally getting to a place where he could feel the same level of trust as he did inside it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knew how precious this was and it made his grin soften, before it widened into a toothy one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Course I will, ‘Kaashi. I’ll be with you the entire time if you want me to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Surprise blinked across the other boy’s face, then a flicker of something else that Bokuto couldn’t put to name just yet, and then it softened: a little smile spread across Akaashi’s lips, precious and fragile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“..Thank you, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It sat in Bokuto’s chest and it made something in it flutter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto laughed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Much as I like your praise, Akaashi— what are friends for, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Trying to approach Aobajohsai’s Vice Captain and Ace about something so far out of left field, being complete strangers to the other boy, about matters far too personal to be brought into the court, was going to prove difficult. Bokuto was honest in being ready to ask Iwaizumi himself if he knew—<em>What’s your Dad’s surname? Do you know who your Dad is? Did your mom have some kinda affair? Do you know?</em>—and that offer would stand no matter what, even if, in the end, Akaashi would ask the other boy himself. Now that he thought about it, there was a strange sense of <em>huh, you look familiar but I don’t know how to describe why, </em>when he saw Iwaizumi earlier: the shape of their faces, the sharp lines of their eyes, even the way that Iwaizumi scowled when a spike was blocked or Oikawa said something to earn his half-hearted ire, was all too similar when Akaashi turned on his more calculated, if not ruthless, switch, during a difficult match or the rare occasion in which he was truly angry.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last time he’d seen Akaashi angry was when he got between Bokuto and the former third-years, now graduated, because of something they’d said about Bokuto being a burden to the team. Bokuto had been aware of this for years, he’d gotten used to it, and had let it roll off of his back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi didn’t let it slide. He didn’t accept it for what it was. He shucked off any intimidation that a first year ought to have towards his upperclassmen and stood his ground.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s how he knew, back then, that Akaashi Keiji was special in a way no other setter, no other person was or ever could be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Akaashi was there for him when Bokuto needed, then it was only natural that Bokuto would return the favor when Akaashi found himself overwhelmed by something as earth-shattering to his sense of the world as the possibility that your father might’ve had another child you never knew about.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat there by the steps outside of the mess hall, taking in the cooler night air as Bokuto talked into the ether, with Akaashi humming and nodding along to show that he was listening, sometimes interjecting with a quip of his own and their usual banter would return. The tired, anxious cloud that hung over Akaashi was still present, lingering, but there was a brightness to his smile that hadn’t been there previously. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them talked about how Bokuto had held him. But the warmth from the press of Akaashi’s body against his own, how the other boy had sagged against him, curling into his side as if it was the safest place to hide tingled on Bokuto’s skin: Bokuto was a physically affectionate person, brought up in a tactile and loudly affectionate family, but no one had stirred quite the same feelings of warmth in him before. He didn’t feel the ghost of how Akaashi felt against him in the same way as anyone else: everyone else had been a passing thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto would think about it for several days after.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you gonna do now, Akaashi?” he asked, as they began to stand up to leave. It was getting late and their teammates would be wondering where they’d gone off to so late before bed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pursing his lips, Akaashi looked up and glared up at the night sky, thoughtful. Sighing, he closed his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…I think I’ll sleep on it, and talk to him tomorrow, after the games are done.” He looked at Bokuto, an apologetic expression on his face. Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been distracted enough when I shouldn’t have been: I won’t let that happen again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Throwing his arms behind his back, Bokuto peered at him for a beat, humming loudly before a soft grin spread across his lips.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay! Which is great, because while Anahori is good, I don’t think he can keep up with me just yet! Definitely not in the way you can! So make sure to get back on the court tomorrow so you can give me all of your best tosses,” His grin became toothy. “Let’s win ‘em all, ‘kay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think that winning <em>all</em> of them is possible, Bokuto-san,” replied Akaashi.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akaashi’s little smile gave him away even as Bokuto whined <em>Akaaaasheee</em>! into the mild early summer night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t fixed and there were still many uncertainties in the air. Akaashi would have to have a difficult, if not outright humiliating, conversation the next day and then he’d have to confront his father immediately after. It would be hanging over his head for the entire day. On the other side of the net, Iwaizumi would wonder why the setter from Fukurodani kept giving him odd looks, wondering what he could’ve done to earn his ire when they’d never met before, and Oikawa would feel the strings of protectiveness for his best friend broiling to the surface. That protectiveness would come forth as borderline hostility towards Fukurodani’s setter, only barely curbed back by sportsmanship. There were a lot of things that weren’t fixed yet, nothing certain until Akaashi could be <em>sure</em>—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But just as Akaashi was always there for him on the court, Bokuto would be there for him outside of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hoped he could do that always.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>will there be a follow-up to this piece? perhaps</p></blockquote></div></div>
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